Maria Makiling, Mountain Goddess

Seen from the low fields of Laguna province, a strange mountain shape lies across the horizon. Its outline is not sharp like most peaks. It curves softly instead. In one place it rises like a shoulder, in another it dips like a waist, and then it rises again in the distance like long hair falling down the slope. People call this mountain Makiling. It stands in Laguna province, on the island of Luzon in the Philippines. For generations, few people have looked at it without thinking of a woman lying on her side, sleeping quietly under the blue sky.

The Tagalog people of old Luzon said that this woman was real. Her name was Maria Makiling. She was a mountain goddess, a spirit of the old forest, and she lived on the very mountain that bears her name. She was not the queen of any kingdom, and she did not dwell in grand temples or palaces. Her home was the whole forest. Every ancient tree, every small stream and every wild animal lived under her gentle protection. Poor families lived close together at the foot of the mountain, and all year round they relied on the forest for food and clothing. To them, Maria Makiling was a quiet protector, always there whenever they needed her.

But her forest had one rule that everyone had to remember. People could pick fruit and dig up roots to use for the day, but no one was to strip the forest greedily and carry home far too much. Whoever broke this rule would find the familiar trail suddenly gone. Their steps would circle endlessly among the trees. Forest thorns would catch lightly on their sleeves, and insects would buzz around them without end. Only when they let go of that greed, and put down what they did not truly need, would the way home appear again, as calmly as if nothing had happened. The people around Mount Makiling still tell their children and grandchildren about a man who once tried to carry home a full basket of roots and fruit. The farther he walked, the more tangled the trail became. Then he suddenly understood. He poured half the basket out onto the ground, and the trail appeared right in front of him.

To those who took only enough and were never greedy, Maria Makiling was very generous. Once, a poor hunter wandered all day in the forest without catching a single animal. Hungry and footsore, he sat down, out of breath, beside a large tree. Maria Makiling herself appeared before him. She told him who she was, and she invited him to rest in a clearing nearby. She served him a hot meal and a bowl of cool water. Before he left, she pressed a handful of small ginger roots into his hand and told him to take them home and use them. The poor hunter thanked the goddess, put the ginger in his bag and went on his way home. But as soon as he stepped over the threshold of his house and took out the ginger, he froze. Every piece of ginger had turned into pure gold, heavy and shining in the lamplight.

Many years passed like this, generation after generation. The Makiling forest stayed green, and the villagers below the mountain had enough to live on, thanks to the kindness of the goddess. But slowly, things began to change. More and more people came to the foot of the mountain, and not all of them came for the food and clothing they truly needed. Some cut trees not to build houses but to sell the timber, as much of it as they could. Some hunted not because they were hungry but just for sport, killing far more than they could ever use.

Maria Makiling stood silently on the mountaintop and looked down at her forest. Each day it had fewer trees, and each day fewer birds were singing. She still loved people as she always had. But she no longer believed they would care for the forest the way their grandparents once had. In her sorrow, she took the path down the mountain less and less often.

The old people of Laguna still say that from then on, she was seen far less often. Poor hunters who lost their way were no longer invited by the goddess to rest. They no longer received a warm meal and a precious handful of ginger. She withdrew deep into the oldest parts of the forest, where few human feet had ever stepped. Since then, hardly anyone has met the mountain goddess of Makiling the way their ancestors told of meeting her.

Her forest did not vanish, though. Today Mount Makiling is protected as a haven for birds and wild animals. It was first recognized in 1933, and then once more in 1960. The birds chatter on the mountain every morning, just as they did long ago.

On a clear afternoon, from the middle of the fields of Laguna, the mountain stands outlined against the sky. Its soft curves, like a shoulder, like long hair falling down the slope, are still there as they were hundreds of years ago. In the Tagalog tellings, the goddess still lies there in the old forest, quiet and gentle, watching over every tree and every stream of the forest she loved so dearly. Only now, hardly anyone sees her step out in broad daylight.